Her back
by Moya-chan
Summary: Original characters, pregame. Left behind as an infant and raised by Bevelle temple, a girl now seen as demon is about to become a guardian of illbehaved summoner. A journey through her life in three story arcs. Rated T for language. Chapter 3 is up.
1. Ch1: Demon child

_The idea of this fanfiction grew in time as a prequel of some sorts to the story 'Wingullwings'; WGW is a collaboration fiction between it's originator – Lonepichu, Celebi __(known under the same usernames on ff net)__ and me that was an edited version of FFX-2 with the members of the TPT forums we go to. The YRP members were replaced by our fictional characters._

'_Her back' comes back to the FFX plot, keeping 99 percent of characters true to their originals. _

_This story featured the life of my character – Ira – before the WGW chapters. It will be divided into three sub-arcs:_

_-Ira's childhood and training at Bevelle  
-Her journey with a summoner  
-Time she will spend between the pilgrimage and coming to FFX-2 plot._

_Thanks to flareofdragon for being my beta._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy X or FF X-2. I do, however, own Ira and other non-game characters. And this story, of course._

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**Part I**

**Chapter 1 – Demon child**

Things were not going as well as she had planned at first.

There were people running around and screaming something to each other, while she was slumped near the wall in shadowed corner, wishing she was small enough to sneak past the rushing people and simply run away. Still, running would mean dropping her prized possession and that she couldn't afford.

She was only ten years old, but in her own mind she was already mature enough to know she would be in deep, deep trouble if someone had found her stealing from the temple, but haven't they been the first to start this little war with her?

She jumped from her shelter, seeing a good opportunity to avoid the searching monks and temple maidens and ran towards the exit. She was so close...

A large, hard hand came to contact with her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks and even trashing around didn't help her to set herself free. A set of claw-like fingers dug into her muscles, ceasing any of her further movement.

"Stop it!" A harsh tone raised at her made her look up to glare at the face of man. He was in his late thirties, wearing traditional cleric robe as many monks in the temple, with short, brown hair shaved accordingly to the rules. His face was permanently fixed with the displeased scowl, or at least she liked to think so. She knew him too well. Lorell, one of the temple's most obedient priests.

"What do you think you are doing?" He hissed, shaking her by the arm with a bit too much force. The girl had to grit her teeth hard to avoid making any sound of weakness. His hands snatched the item she held before she could protest. "Stealing from the weaponry? You are busted, young lady."

"Let me go!" She yelled as he forcefully dragged her towards the door on the right side of the temple, some of the residents and monks looking at the scene with awe. "Let me go you asshole!"

"Hah." Lorell fumed, turning a bright shade of angry red with every new obscenity she called him. "Such foul language in the temple is unforgivable! I will see to it myself that you will be punished."

She could hear some other temple kids laughing at her, mainly the ones who were training with the battle monks. Now that she was caught again they were never going to let her live through the humiliation. She could almost _feel_ her own anger bursting inside of her, as she fought to set herself free but failed miserably. The arm that the monk held in vice grip started to grow numb so she ceased her struggling a bit to allow the blood to flow trough her veins more freely.

By the time they had made it to their destination, the girl already had given up on breaking free, but that didn't mean she had to make things easy for him. The last distance he had to practically drag her around, since she refused to be handled how he pleased.

"My lord." Lorell came to the small, rich-encrusted chamber of the high priest, one of those that were directly under Mayster's orders. "This has gone to far." He dragged her forward, forcing her to stand before the old monk. "I just caught her stealing training weapons from the shelter."

The wooden, training sword in his hand was held out accusingly. The girl wondered if she could snatch it right now and run. Probably not.

"Ira."

She turned her stare back at the high priest, sending him her best, cold glare. Right now she didn't care at all what kind of punishment she would get. The temple gave her food and roof to sleep under as they did for all the orphans, but other then that, they were nothing but gathering of old people and foolish women.

"Yes... sir?" She spoke, already predicting what was about to come from the old geezers lips.

"What can you say to explain yourself?" The elder looked a bit bored; it wasn't the first time they have brought him this evil girl so he could pass his judgment on her. Really, she was never going to change and he didn't really see the point of keeping her in the temple. It was too bad they couldn't just throw her out, it would be better for everyone.

"Nothing, sir." She stared at both of them, crossing her arms rudely on her small chest. She might have been only ten, but with life being hard like her was, children had to grow up fast and learn to _think_ fast if they wanted to survive in this world. One with slow reflexes and weak mind could not survive in the harsh reality of temple's conditions. Other kids here were like sharks and one wrong move could cost you a lot. "Can I have my sword back?"

The priest merely shook his head.

"It's not your sword, child. It belongs to the temple. And you know the rules perfectly, I have repeated them to you countless times. You are NOT to take the swords." He had watched her reactions closely, holding back her furious stare. As for being only a child, a female on top of that, she could certainly act like an adult when it came to behavior. "On the side note, Lady Mathia had informed me you missed yet another practice."

"Oh please." Ira rolled her eyes and snorted. "Lady Mathia does nothing more then sleeping trough most of the practice. She is as useless as you, old man."

The elder looked shocked, but not giving him time to recover Lorell had grabbed her by the arm again. She was getting tired of that but she bit down that nasty comment that started to form on her lips.

"You ungrateful brat, apologize at once!"

When she refused to do anything, he looked like he wanted to hit her. Barely, just barely he stopped himself.

"Ira, child" The elder once again spoke as he recovered from initial shock and anger. "Why do you refuse to take the practice? You are living in the temple... it's only natural that you would take course for temple maiden, is it not?"

"No!" She yelled, struggling her arm free. "If you like maidens so much, why don't YOU become one, you old shoopuf!"

With that, she had kicked the surprised Lorell in the shin. _Hard_. He stumbled a bit and she used that opportunity to yank the sword from his hand and ran for her life.

Lorell hopped on one foot, muffling down any kind of obscenity he had for the girl, afraid to reveal his foul language in front of high priest.

That child only gave everyone constant, permanent headache. She was the worst troublemaker in the temple, at least the worst when it came to girls. No one in their right mind could understand why she refused to take practice that all of the girls did and instead insisted on taking battle training. That, in fact, was intolerable. No females in the temple were even allowed to come close to the weapon shelter, and here she was, yet again managing to snatch the training sword and even more, getting away with it.

"Lorell."

"Yes, my lord?"

"Something must be done with this... girl." The high priest stroked his long grey beard as he wondered aloud. "Ever since she came here I've been alarmed of the anger and hint of insanity inside her. Her blood red eyes are not a sign of good."

"Sir... you are aware she is called a demon's child." Lorell gritted his teeth while massaging his sore shin. "There is no way an infant could survive in the snow of Macalania if it wasn't for the demon's blood inside of her."

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Ira had spun around again, dealing another blow at her training dummy, which she had made herself from the old potato bags, sticks and straw. It was far from perfect and every few more intense training sessions she had to patch it right up, since it had the annoying habit of falling to pieces, if it took too much damage.

With a frustrated yell she struck the blunt end trough the dummy's center, piercing the soft insides. She slumped down to the ground heavily, leaning against nearby rock and fuming in anger.

If they really expected her to just suck it all up and go to the maiden training like a good little girl they expected her to be... well too bad, because she wasn't about to bend to their wishes.

"I can see you're awfully not in the mood today." A soft male voice reached her ears and she tilted her head to see one of temple keepers, leaning against his broomstick he had just used to sweep up withered leaves. He was old, maybe older then anyone in the temple, his gray but thick moustache any eyebrows making him look like a walrus.

He came closer, picking up the abandoned training sword and perking it up gently against the same rock she was leaning on.

"Next time they catch you, they are probably going to take you to Mayster." The keeper, Banth, shook his head in a little disapproving matter.

"Not you too, old man." Ira growled. "You came to lecture me as well?"

"Yes." He replied sincerely, turning down his broomstick and yanking the girl up with surprising ease. "Have you practiced that uppercut slash like I told you to?"

Ira grabbed her trainee sword yet again.

"I still can't do it right, I don't know what I am missing."

"Show me."

She did, not arguing any longer.

Banth was the only person Ira had in this temple that didn't look down upon her just because she was a female. He was only a keeper, but Ira figured out he must have had some battle experience in the past. He was limping a bit on the right leg. A battle wound perhaps? Was it this limp that disqualified him from any further fight and reduced him to the position of servant?

"Keep your arms higher." He instructed, voice serious and eyes focused on her moves. "You lower your stance too early, that's why you keep missing your target."

Their practice continued, unwary of everything but the training; a man who stood near the temple entrance and watched them with sharp eyes.


	2. Ch2: Closeminded

_No reviews yet, but I'm patient. Still, they make me write faster ;)_

_There were few of my friends who wondered how a ten year old girl can talk back to adults like that; It IS possible. My sister's best friend has a niece that is only two years old and she can backchat you amazingly well. Kids grow up so fast sometimes it's scary._

_And to answer other question that might come: yes, some of the original FFX and later FFX-2 characters will appear in the story. Still, only two of them will play bigger role, others will appear only in the background._

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**Part I**

**Chapter ****2 - Close-minded**

"What did you say?!" Ira yelled, as she lunged forward, nearly grabbing her target by the collar of his scruffy shirt. She was fuming, hands balled tightly into fists as she fought the urge to rip his head off. "Take that back!"

The boy she was facing was around her age, maybe a little bit older. He was taller and Ira cursed her short height. He had spiky dark red hair and wore the training suit that all the warrior monk apprentices did. His name was Amarant and he was one of the best trainees in the temple's teaching squads.

"I said" He replied with another smirk. "That you are a weakling. You could never reach to our level. But..." He waved his hand dismissively "If you apologize now, _maybe_ I can allow you to serve me, once we finish our training."

This was all she could take and with raged scream she had thrown her full weight on the boy, who didn't really expect the attack. They stumbled on the ground and as other apprentices were chanting his name, Ira punched him hard. She felt his lips tear over his own teeth and that only made her attack him harder, her senses and blood singing in joy. Still, Amarant had sobered from the initial shock in matter of seconds and grabbed her striking arm, his other fist hitting her in her stomach.

She yelped in pain and held on, but a strong kick from her right forced her to shift her balance in avoiding the attack. That caused them roll on the ground, each refusing to let go or allow the other to top. Ira punched him again, the blow falling on his jaw but it didn't really cause any serious damage. He laughed, the other boys cheering for him, as he grabbed her red and white hair and yanked it back, until he was sure none of her hits could reach him. That hurt, but even when she tried to kick him again, he pinned her to ground and all in all, further struggling was futile.

"Let go of me!" She yelled trough the cheering voices, feeling the tears of humiliation forming in her eyes but refused to let them fall down. "Let go of me, you bastard!"

"Tsk, tsk. Watch your language, wench." Amarant's friends laughed and she felt an urge to wipe that smirks of their faces.

She never really asked for much. Neither for their acceptance, nor recognition for her developing skills. All she wanted to do was to tag along with one of the training squads and become a warrior. Ira had found it unfair that the only thing a female could do in the temple was to serve priests and battle monks and pray at the ceremonies.

"Let me go!" She struggled again against the hands holding her down and fingers yanking at her hair. If she could have only one chance, one moment where his defenses would be down...

"Not until you apologize." Amarant had wiped his bleeding lip on his sleeve. "And until you admit that you're nothing but a weakling."

"Never!"

"Say it!" He pulled her hair harder and this time, it hurt enough to make her scream in pain. Few strands of red and white hair were pulled out with the roots and tangled in his fingers.

"Fuck you!" She yelled, even though she was dangerously close to crying.

"What is the meaning of this?

A deep baritone ran trough the air as the trainee boys fell silent and only faint murmurs could be heard. A hand fell on Amarant's shoulder before he could react to the new presence. Once the pressure on her back was lifted, Ira had sprung on her feet, ready to fight back if anyone dared to strike at her again.

But no further attack came; Amarant was held back and other boys didn't dare to move, now that they weren't alone.

The man who kept a steel grip on Amarant's arm was tall, taller then most of the monks she had seen in the temple. He was wearing dark pants, boots and chest armor, and a red coat on top of everything. His raven black hair sported few streaks of white and it was tied in a loose ponytail.

She had a vague feeling that she had seen him somewhere before, but she could not recall his face even if her life depended on it.

"I asked you a question." The man looked over the apprentices. "What is the meaning of this?"

Amarant squirmed in his grip, but the fingers held his arm in almost painful vice grip.

"She's the one who started it." He whined, some of his friends nodding a little too eagerly. Ira felt her mouth open in surprise.

"Bullshit!" She yelled, surprising the robe-clad man with her language. "You started to call me names first, you asshole!"

She winced as she tried to scowl, the side of her face was growing numb from the last blow that fell on her. Thin scratches on her other cheek were stinging, but she willed the pain away.

The raven-haired monk looked at her, his intense gaze making her slightly uncomfortable. Then he shifted his eyes back to the group of boys. He had heard them chanting Amarant's name earlier, heard screaming and sounds of fight. The boy in his grip was currently sporting a split lip and quite colorful set of bruises. Was it really this one girl that had put him into that state?

There was something in her eyes that made him stop and think twice of what he was about to say, something he hasn't seen in quite long time. A silent plea for support, almost begging him to believe her, not them, not the ones that have been tormenting her.

"If you are alright then return to the temple. I'm afraid my squad can be quite unpredictable."

His squad? Ira raised her thin eyebrows slightly. That meant that he was an instructor? She knew the teacher of Amarant's group... they must have switched. Whatever the reason was, Ira didn't really care. He acted the same way as all of the others, sending her back to the temple, favoring boys even if the truth was on her side.

The man stared at her expectantly when she just continued to stare at him, obviously lost in her own thoughts.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" He asked, quite amused by the look on her face when the question had caught her off guard.

"No, _Sir_." The last word sounded almost like an insult and she dusted off her clothes and left, casting one last nasty glance at the trainees.

The man looked after her until she disappeared from his range of sight, only then releasing Amarant's arm. The red-haired boy rubbed his sore limb a little, trying to bring back full blood circulation.

"Stupid wench." He spat at direction where Ira had left, scowling at the thought of this girl splitting his lip. He didn't expect the hand that smacked him heavily over his head.

"Ow!" He whined, covering his head. "Sir Auron, what was that for?"

"You watch your language." The monk growled, turning his angry gaze at his students. None of them looked as confident as they had been a minute ago, when Amarant was beating up that girl demon. "All of you, ten laps around the temple. Move!"

---------------

Ira kneeled near her bunk bed in girl's dormitory as she placed her small mirror - that was unfortunately fractured in the middle – on her covers and tried to look at her face from proper angle. Though it was not very clear, she could see dark bruise forming on the right side of her head where Amarant had pulled her hair, as well as swollen ring of dark tissue that circled her eye.

"Well, that's just peachy." She winced as she touched her black eye. Now each time she will face Amarant until it was gone he will smirk at her. Like he had any reason to be victorious, she had smashed his lip pretty well herself. Ira smiled as she remembered his surprised expression when she had punched him.

"Oh dear Yevon, what in the name of heavens happened to you?!"

The girl winced again at the high-pitched shriek that had pierced her ears. Lady Mathia, the maiden in head of girls training had spotted her as she passed the dormitory and now ran to her side, twisting her head painfully so she could have a closer look on Ira's black eye.

"I got into a fight." The red-haired girl shrugged and shook off her bony fingers. "No big deal."

"No big deal? NO BIG DEAL?!" Another shriek. Ira had long ago noticed that Lady Mathia was one skinny drama-queen. "How many times have I told you NOT to go to boys? They don't want us to meddle in their business and your place is here, inside the temple! You missed another meeting and two more practices. How am I supposed to teach you when you don't even attend the classes?"

"You don't have to." Ira put her mirror away and washed the dirt of her face in the water basin that every dormitory provided. "I'm not interested anyway."

"What is Mayster going to say?" Mathia psyched out as Ira continued to ignore her. "It's my responsibility to raise you here, you can't just—"

"Sorry, I'm kinda busy." The girl interrupted her in her mid sentence and passed the surprised woman to go outside the temple. "I have some training to do."

Mathia looked like she was about to yell after her or explode on the spot. She settled for fainting theatrically and collapse into the arms of first nearby battle monk.

---------------

The next few days passed rather quietly as for the usually lively Bevelle temple. There had been minor quarrels only a few times and, just as Ira and Amarant started to throw punches at each other again, they were separated by displeased Auron and a pissed off Lorell. She had to go trough another lecture from the high priest, obviously as bored of the procedure as Ira was.

Less than a week later, Mathia snatched her by the collar of her shirt as Ira tried to sneak past her. The teaching maiden had literally dragged the trashing girl with her, guiding her into the class where all other girls waited. Lady Mathia threw Ira inside, locking the door behind her with heavy copper key.

"Now that we are all here," Mathia gasped from the previous exercise that Ira ever so kindly decided to give her. "Let's continue with previous class subject. That would be the incenses and offerings." She stared at the red-haired girl.

"Oh, lovely." Ira rolled her eyes as she mocked her in honey-sweet voice. Few girls giggled, but the older maiden had sent them an angry glare. Ira took the farthest seat possible, settling in the windowed corner of the room and tried hard to look as bored as she really felt.

"I don't understand why you don't like these classes so much." A brown-haired girl in green robe on her right side whispered to her good half a hour later, once Mathia was so into her lecture that she didn't pay much attention to rest of the world. Ira raised her eyebrows as she tried to remember the girl's name. She couldn't recall it, which meant she was as unimportant as rest of people. "And I seriously don't get why you find the fighting so appealing."

"Why not?" She whispered back, deciding that teasing the girl would surely provide more entertainment then Mathia's rambling, if she had to suffer trough the whole class. "It's better then this shit."

The brunette winced at her choice of words, but decided to say nothing about it.

"These practices can be fun too, you know?" Ira snorted. She really tried to convince her it was actually worth her time. "You get to learn some fun things. I for once, really like ikebana classes."

Ira laughed, the sound muffled by her hand as she tried hard not to catch the attention of their instructor.

"Tell me" Ira wondered aloud, her tone amused. "Will the ikebana teach you how to defend yourself in the battle? Will the incense knowledge help you gut down your dinner that you had just hunted down, still warm and twitching?" Oh how she enjoyed the look of disgust on the girl's face.

"Not all of us have to fight."

"I know. And not all of us have to be maidens. I don't." Ira shrugged, leaning over her desk. A tall tree behind the window by her left side caught her attention. It's branches reached the window's level, but were a bit far to reach them freely...

"And besides, doesn't fighting... hurt?" The brunette scowled lightly at the thought.

"You're kidding, right?" Ira looked at her quizzically. "Yes, it hurts. Yes, you get to be hit and hit others, your clothes get dirty, your nails break. So what? What's your name anyway?"

"It's Shelinda."

"Well, _Shelinda_, tell me, do you really want to spend your whole life serving others?" The redhead mused, as she looked over the window. "There is a whole wide world there, do you really want to stay here for your whole life, serving coffee and tea to men and listen as they humiliate you? Where they don't even want you?"

There was something strange in her tone that made Shelinda wonder. She didn't know the strange girl too well, but there was some kind of... longing in her voice. This was slightly awkward to her, since the 'demon girl' as others tended to call her didn't act like a girl at all.

"Ira!" Lady Mathia called to her and the redhead snapped back to reality, her head turning fast towards the instructor. "You're not paying attention at all! What I have said a moment ago?"

Ira stood up from her seat and crossed her thin arms on her flat chest. She made a weird expression, as if thinking over something deeply.

"That you are really awful as a teacher? Please, Lady Mathia, you can always resign. I'm sure nobody will hold grudge against you." Some of the students laughed, as they watched their instructor turn a lovely shade of bright red. "I know I won't." Ira added cheerfully.

"Get over here, right now!" Mathia yelled, as she stomped heavily into her direction. But the girl was quicker, and she had already placed one foot on the edge of the window.

"Sorry, can't do. I was just leaving." She glanced once more on the ground below and decided it was now or never. Putting all the strength into her legs as she possible could, Ira jumped.

"Oh shiiiiit!" She yelled, as her hands trashed wildly to find the support of the nearest branch. She could hear Mathia's scream of surprise and horror and then a low _thud_ as she fainted yet again. Shelinda staring at her open mouthed as Ira was hanging from the branch she grabbed in last possible second.

"You see" The crazy redhead swayed until she could hook her legs over the branch and twist her body around, so she was hanging no more but sitting quite comfortably. "Serving all of those old farts in this temple is not my dream. I'm not afraid to do anything I can to reach for my own dream."

With that, she slipped down to another, lower branch, and then another, until it was safe for her to jump down. She ran into Yevon knew what direction, leaving the puzzled Shelinda behind.


	3. Ch3: Do not leap at the sun

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**Part I**

**Chapter 3 – Do not leap at the sun**

"Why the hell not?!"

Auron winced at the angry outburst, smacking the boy over the head again. It wasn't the first time he was about to get reprimanded.

"Because I said so. You are not to get a real sword until I decide you are ready. And believe me, you are NOT." The monk was busy fixing his way too loose ponytail with piece of string, not paying attention to dirty look Amarant gave him. "Go back to practice."

He watched the boy leave and strike his trainee wooden sword at his training partner, who had difficulties reflecting his blows. Amarant was a good student, he had to admit. What worried him was the boy's cockiness, his belief that he was worth more then others, that he was better then them not only in the matter of fighting, but as a human being. Auron knew that could not end well for him. Someone will kick him off from his pedestal and it will _hurt_.

He noticed the figure standing near the temple's western gate and giving out few more orders, he rushed to the said exit.

Banth was leaning on his broom as his vigilant eyes scanned the field and the apprentices. The elder stroked his moustache in wonder, waiting for the young monk to join him.

"Sir." Auron nodded into his direction as he came closer. "It's good to see you again."

Banth nodded right back, his eyes still focused on the training boys.

"I see you got Balthazar's group?"

"Yes." Auron leaned on the wall, crossing his arms on his chest as he joined the elder in observing his apprentices. "They are skilled, but completely and utterly undisciplined."

"Have you told them what happened to their mentor?" These were grim news and somehow Banth knew that the young monk still hasn't passed them to his new students.

"Not yet."

The older man said nothing, as he held his gaze on Amarant's figure. The boy was skilled. No wonder Ira couldn't beat him. Speaking of which...

"Auron, have you ever tried to do something that others deemed impossible?"

The raven-haired instructor merely smirked at the thought.

"That depends what we are talking about. You know I wouldn't go against temple's orders."

Banth threw his head back and laughed.

"Ah yes, your old-fashioned love for rules, I nearly forgot about that. No, my boy, this time I wanted to ask if you are ready to pay back the debt you still owe to your old teacher."

"And what would I have to do?" Auron frowned, as he watched the elder lean on his broom again.

"Nothing much. I want you to take a look at someone. The rules in this temple seem to be a little... stiff. A bit outdated, just like the people who run it. I would like to stir their moods a little." The elder smiled, more to himself then to his former student. "Who knows, this whole thing may actually be worth your time."

----------

Bevelle – the city, not the temple – was actually quite big.

Ira wandered on the streets without real sense of where she was going. She had just left the temple as soon as she heard that Mathia was looking for her. The girl smiled, imaging the pissed of look the older maiden must have had.

There was some commotion at the main square and Ira vaguely remembered it was a bazaar day. Not really thinking about it twice, she took a stroll down the main street, reaching the Bevelle square in matter of minutes.

She liked observing the market place; it was always vivid and lively even during bad times or when Sin rampaged in nearby cities. Various stalls were decorated in bright, flashy colors and merchants were loudly advertising their goods, even if the quality of their products was _really_ bad. She could see the yellow chocobos here and there, sometimes even a couple of Crusaders. Of course, there was also a martial arts show and as much as she tried to stay indifferent about it, the only thing Ira could really do was to gape open-mouthed at the practitioners, promising herself to use one of two moves next time she will try to beat the crap out of Amarant.

She managed to snatch a sweet baked corn from one of the food stalls. Unfortunately, her attempt on taking 'free' apple from the other one failed miserably. It was a good thing that Ira was fast enough to leave any pursuers far behind. Even so, sprinting trough the narrow alleyways of Bevelle proved to be a tad difficult. The people she accidentally bumped on weren't pleased about girl's clumsiness.

When she was sure she had lost the furious owner of the fruit stall, Ira finally slowed down her pace, panting.

She was now on the street she hasn't really seen before. Colorful, but slightly dulled. The buildings had an oriental feeling to them, at least as much as Ira knew about foreign stuff. White and red sheets hang from the windows high up above her head. Few withered plants took shelter in the shades of the alley, avoiding the direct sunlight.

Ira wasn't lost; she never actually was, even though her sense of direction left a lot to ask for. Looking around in interest, she hopped down the street, hoping to find there something at least remotely worth her time and attention.

To her displeasure, the alley ended abruptly with dead end. She was about to turn around and go back to the bazaar, but her eyes fell upon shop door. A small wooden plank had been hanged on the rusted nail and quite hurried and messy handwriting (for Ira it looked like a huge spider had fell into ink bottle and walked over the wood, leaving wobbly footprints) informed any potential customer that the shop was open.

She pushed the heavy door which creaked unpleasantly. Once inside, she could only stand motionless, staring in awe at the presented goods.

Weapons! Every possible kind of weapon the girl could possibly think of; Long, fighting staffs, spears, sharp Summoner's rods, beautifully crafted bows and swords. Oh, the swords...

Ira stared at them, feeling the clenching in her heart once she realized she would never be able to afford even _holding_ any of them, much less buy any for her own. The sharp, shining blades picked her attention with artistically shaped handles, each different and unique all of them were a masterpiece. Each in complete with modeled sheath, they glistening in the dull sunlight that softly illuminated the room trough dirty windows.

Ira blinked once, twice, then her hand moved on her own when she reached with cautious fingers to one of the crimson-colored blades, vary of it's sharpness. She pressed her fingertips lightly to the side of cool metal, almost afraid that the solid blade will fell to dust under her touch.

"Please don't touch the merchandise." A strong voice from the back of the room startled her and she snatched her hand away, as if the crimson sword had actually burned her. "It's not like you can afford one."

She glared, as best as she could at the merchant who appeared quite unexpectedly behind the counter; Ira could swear there was no one behind it mere seconds ago.

"What if you're wrong?" She asked, chin raised high as if she really had the cash she could spend in every possible way a child could imagine. The shopkeeper merely snorted.

"I can see you're not a customer, but only an observer. Having kids run around at the weapon shop isn't really good for business."

"Right, because I am scaring away this _hoards_ of customers."

The man laughed, though Ira wasn't really sure if he was laughing about her comment or something entirely different.

"I never knew there was a weapon shop around this area. Otherwise I would have come here ages ago." She decided not to continue this silly bickering any further and once again focused on the wall where swords were exhibited. The crimson blade seemed to almost pull her towards it, and she allowed her gaze to travel across the blade again, seeking for any kind of imperfection. There were none.

"You have quite good taste, as for a girl." The merchant leaned against the counter, ignoring the nasty glare that the girl directed at him. If looks could kill, he would have probably dropped dead long time ago. "That's my finest sword, the best I ever got. Unfortunately, no one wants to buy it."

"Why?" Ira was surprised; It would be the first sword she would have picked if she only had the money.

"Have you seen the price tag?"

She turned her head again, focusing her eyes on the small piece of paper hanging loosely on the nail next to the sword.

"Shit, who in the world has that kind of cash?" She scowled, as the ridiculously high number finally sank in.

The man raised an eyebrow at the string of mild curses that this weird girl muttered to herself.

"If I try to sell it for even a gil less it would be a crime towards it's maker; It's absolutely perfect. I don't dare to lower the price, even though half of the price would bring me a good fortune."

Ira stared some more at the weapon; Oh how she longed to merely hold it for a minute, to feel the shape of handle in her hands, the weight of it and simply swing it a few times, cutting trough the air..

"Does it have a name?" She inquired, eyes snapping back to the merchant.

"Indeed. It's called Amaranta Exurere. A Burning Lotus." The man smiled, looking fondly at the weapon. "And I'm O'aka XXIII, merchant extraordinaire."

----------

Three days later Ira still couldn't stop thinking about the magnificent sword.

It was silly, she knew. Any kind of weapon, let alone such pricy one, was out of her reach. Well, at least for some time. She vaguely wondered if there was something, anything she could do to convince O'aka to let her have it... but then she knew she was not the person who can get such gifts. She was still a child, as much as she hated thinking of herself as one, plus an orphan brat from local temple.

Still, that wouldn't keep her from going to his shop as much as possible and pester him about it.

When she managed to get out of the temple again to wander on the Bevelle streets, it was rather chilly evening. Strong wind harassed the tall trees near the road and dark clouds gathered high up on the sky. Taking a note to not waste too much time in the city, Ira ran down the road leading from the temple to town's square.

There were only few merchants out there now, the rest quickly gathering goods and packing their stalls into their carriages. So much for snatching, Ira thought with a grudge. Setting back to jog, she disappeared in the maze of narrow streets, looking for the special weapon shop.

Taking few turns here and there, she quickly made her way trough the alleyways, stopping only once to look around and make sure she was on the right track. Yes, there it was, the dull colors of the street, so familiar even though she had been here only once before. The laundry was gone from the rusted balconies above her head; the residents must have taken them out before the downpour started.

Ira didn't really know what exactly she was about to say or do. The closer her steps took her to the old door, she less confident she was. Really, she was pretty much sure that the merchant will laugh at her or even throw her out oh his shop. She finally stood before it and took a glance on the plank that hanged from the nail.

"Oh come on." Ira raised her eyebrows high, looking at the wobbly word scribbled on the wood. 'Closed'. She took the door handle and pressed it quite forcefully, only to find it locked. It was just her luck. Muttering few curses under her breath, she turned back and jogged back to the temple.

She barely had time to react when a pair of hands snapped from behind the corner and pushed her. She lost her balance, managing to twist herself ever so slightly so she didn't fall flat on her face but on her side. A familiar laughter rang trough the alleyway and Ira gritted her teeth, lightly rubbing her sore arm. Few scratches only, not something she would pay much attention to.

"The fuck you want, Amarant?" She growled, raising herself from the cobblestones. There he was, the pain in her overall comfortable life, laughing at her like she fell due to her own clumsiness, not thanks to his assault. Few of his friends stood there with him; Ira could swear that Amarant's 'bodyguards' as she liked to refer to them didn't really have half of their leader's strength. It was easier for them to stand behind his back and observe and tease and...

A thunder rolled in the sky and in a matter of seconds heavy raindrops fell, splashing around noisily and soaking them trough in matter of seconds. Normally, Ira would spent a brief moment to breathe in the characteristic, pleasant smell of rain mixing with earth and dust on the ground, but now she kept her gaze firmly on her rival.

"Last time we had chance to 'talk' you made me look like a fool before Sir Auron. Don't think I will forget that so easily."

"Too bad." Ira smirked. "Because you _are_ a fool. And I think you're the only one who fails to see that."

She knew immediately from the way his brows knitted together and his fist clenched that he was angry. Was he really up to another fight? Ira valued her odds. Amarant's friends probably wouldn't move a finger until-- IF she managed to beat their leader up, but still, she was outnumbered.

"You better watch what you are saying." He growled, towering over her and glaring down to intimidate the girl, but she held his gaze firmly. "I might forget that you are a girl."

"Hah." Ira laughed with a short, barking laughter. "Like that ever stopped you? You're so full of shit, Amarant."

Knowing this will probably earn her some kind of so-called 'punishment' Ira quickly ducked into nearest alley and ran, as fast as her legs would allow her. A shout 'Get her!" came to her ears and in a matter of seconds she could hear a footsteps. So they were chasing her. Ira smirked; she was quite good at running.

She took next turn right, then left. Rain fell into her eyes and made her hair cling to her wet forehead but she merely pushed it back so they wouldn't cover her eyes. She could see faint outline of the town's square in a distance; once she got there it will be clear way out to the temple and they wouldn't dare to attack her there, a temple full of monks and nuns.

After a few seconds of furious sprint though, it became clear that she was really out of luck that day. Her pursuers got closer and before she could speed up, someone grabbed the ends of her long hair and yanked it back forcefully, causing her to stumble backwards on the hard cobblestones. A yelp of pain escaped her against her will as she scrambled to get up, but failed miserably once a hand pressed to her throat. Not enough to suffocate her, but enough for her to know that it could to serious damage. Amarant glared down at her as one of his friends held her down.

"Consider this just a warning." He flung back his flaming red hair as he panted to calm himself down after this short sprint. Knocking some dirt to her face he laughed as the boys left the alleyway, leaving her on the ground, coughing and rubbing her eyes to get the dirt out.

These were the moments she really hated the fact that she was born a girl. It annoyed her on a daily basis, yet the frustration over her own helpless state grew stronger each time she wasn't able to push back any kind of attack that Amarant launched at her. A shiver ran down her spine as she gathered herself from the ground and Ira realized she was soaked and cold; she would be lucky if she could avoid getting sick over this. Blinking few more times to make sure her eyes are alright, she made her way up the small hill taking the road to the temple. She was in really foul mood now, plus she was already soaked through.

The temple gates were still open, thanks be to Yevon; since she didn't like the idea of spending the night outside its walls. Going to the girl's dormitory right now seemed like a bad idea; Ira was sure that Lady Mathia would only fuss over her pitiful state, blaming her for starting fights with boys. Other girls would just stare at her and whisper behind her back and she didn't have any strength left to argue them off.

She let her steps direct her, subconsciously taking her to her own, private training ground, where the rags and sand dummy still awaited her, even though in quite miserable state. She plunged herself to ground under the trunk of one of the nearby trees, shielding herself from the rain. She was shivering; not from the cold, but rather from the amount of hurt and humiliation she experienced. It was always like that, Ira thought bitterly, while wrapping her arms around herself in futile attempt to warm herself up. She never bothered the instructors or argued with them. Never asked any of the boys to stand up for her. Tried not to be a pest, just silently watching the training squads and trying to learn something on her own without besieging others. So why wouldn't they leave her alone, if she didn't want anything from them?

The soaked girl huffed in frustration, shaking of the droplets of water from her hair. She didn't even have any kind of equipment to train on her own, just this old, broken rag doll and stolen sword. Every day it seemed to be less and less possible for her to reach for her dreams.

Ira raised herself from the ground in a temper, snatching the trainee sword from its shelter between the tree branches, where she had hid it after her last training. The water was cold but she did not pay any attention, even if her hands were shaking and lips were tainted with pale blue.

She attacked once, twice, the dull blade swinging through the air gracefully, drops of rain splattering noisily on its surface. First blow collided with the target a little too high then she wanted it to, but the second was performed flawlessly, piercing trough the dummy with ease. She yanked it back and then spun around, low, on bent legs, trying to cut from the base to top. Her grip slipped a little because of the heavy downpour and throbbing ache in her arm from where Amarant had hit her, but the attack was successful. The sword tore trough the tatters and sand poured out, some of it hitting her face and eyes. She cursed, but didn't stop. A scream of frustration was slowly rising in her chest, until she finally let out angry and pained yell, slashing trough the dummy with force until it fell apart.

Ira slumped to her knees and let out one more scream of anger before reducing it to a whine. Her breathing was heavy and she blinked hard to shake of the need to cry. Ira wouldn't cry, not because of reasons like that. She tried to calm herself down by twisting the slick grass underneath her.

She noticed through the heavy downpour that there was shade falling on her and she snapped her head around, only to stare into a crimson coat. Raising her head higher, her gaze glided up until she met a pair of dark eyes of the monk that had helped her out few days ago.

"What?" She snapped, turning her head back to the destroyed dummy and wondering for a brief while if she should hide the sword in case he noticed it was stolen.

"You're quite persistent, aren't you?"

She refused to answer, much to her surprise, feeling ashamed when the man spoke to her. It was a weird feeling of insignificance she never had when interacting with anyone from the temple.

"I've noticed you watching the trainees in different squads. Tell me, what are you trying to achieve?" His tone was calm, but deep inside; Ira thought she felt a hint of amusement in it. It made her angry all over again; people never seemed to stop making fun of her.

"Why would you care?" She grumbled to herself, vaguely noticing that her knees started to hurt from kneeling on the ground for too long.

"I have my reasons."

She snorted helplessly, still refusing to look at the monk. Raising her head to glare at the dark clouds she stared in the distance for few moments.

"There is no sun." She murmured to herself, not caring if she was overheard. "I keep reaching for it like an idiot but there is no way I can feel it."

Auron looked at the girl in wonder. She was small as for a kid at her age, thin as a stick, but from what he had seen not weak at all. She did, after all, manage to fight of Amarant for quite a while. And Banth had taught her some of the swords use, just like he said. If she could really train herself like that all by herself, then maybe his old mentor wasn't wrong after all. But she was full of anger and hurt, and probably just as cocky as his top student. Surely just as bad-mouthed as him as well. And teaching her will mean going against the rules set up by Yevon hundreds of years ago.

"Raise yourself." He barked out a command and much to her surprise, Ira's body listened to it before she even had chance to register the meaning of the words. "If you really are not weak, then prove it."

With that comment he finally caught her attention and she looked up at him in confuse.

"Come tomorrow by dawn at the western gate. Bring your sword with you." His eyes fell back to the wooden weapon on the ground. Ira followed his gaze, still not understanding. "I do not tolerate lateness and do not expect any special treatment. If you do well we'll see what we can do about your trainee status."

For a split second Ira was still wondering what in the name of Yevon was going on and then a realization dawned on her, as her eyes widened in disbelief.

"But--" She stuttered, silently cursing herself for tumbling on her words. "Sir, that's--"

"I thought that was what you wanted?" The coat-clad monk stared back at her and even if the amusement in his voice was less obvious then before, Ira could still sense it.

"I do!" She nodded her head eagerly.

"Good. I expect to see you tomorrow at dawn."

With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, soon after that disappearing in one of the Temple's entrances. Ira gaped after him for a moment, then looked back on her destroyed dummy and wooden sword, wondering what the hell had just happened.

She never realized the heavy downpour was already over and some of the shy sunlight rays started to peek out from behind the angry gray clouds.


End file.
